


Berlin, Je t'aime

by LadyVictory



Series: Stronger Than Bone [1]
Category: Atomic Blonde (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Delphine lives, F/F, Fix-It, I couldn't let them kill her, Unbury Your Gays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 16:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11717706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVictory/pseuds/LadyVictory
Summary: Delphine isn't sure, but she thinks she sees moisture simmering along the underside of the blonde's eyes before she is spun around to face her fate.Almost as an afterthought, Lorraine slips Delphine's walkman headphones over her ears and presses play.At first it is just an uncomfortable pressure, but soon, the feeling of the thick black cords twisting round her neck feel like she is being choked by fire.It is excruciating.****Percival was never in that room, Delphine lives, and Lorraine gets the reward she has rightfully earned.





	Berlin, Je t'aime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hansbekhart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hansbekhart/gifts).



> AN 1: *presses record* I have no claim to characters or derivative profits. *presses stop*
> 
> AN 2: I had to un-bury this gay. I couldn't let them do that sweet baby dirty like that.
> 
> AN 3: For the bae, my own Atomic Blonde.
> 
> AN 4: I typed this into my phone instead of sleeping. There are a million mistakes...
> 
> AN 5: Thanks to dreamsheartstory and elletromil for helping me smooth my rough French!
> 
> AN 6: Clearly Lorraine is an unreliable narrator. Here's what I think really happened...

Lorraine is hot against her back, like a steam pipe, hissing quietly as her long fingered hand slides the cord around Delphine's neck.  
  
"But why..." the younger woman begins to ask again, but stops herself.  
  
She knows the answer - they have gone over it many times now - it is just her fear making her question things again.  
  
Lorraine sighs, but the sound is more sympathetic than annoyed.  
  
"The photos have to look real, for when they inevitably look into my story," the blonde whispers, free hand coming up to stroke Delphine's stomach in a comforting gesture.  
  
"Yes, of course," Delphine whispers, swallowing hard. The electrical cord makes it just this side of uncomfortable, and she can feel her heart beating frantically against it.  
  
"They will know the difference between makeup and bruising. Between feigning unconsciousness and... They are well acquainted with these things." Lorraine continues, ever so patient even though they have been over this again and again.  
  
"Y-yes, I-you have said. I trust you," the French woman assures, but her voice is thin and her breaths are coming more and more rapidly, as if she has been running a great distance.  
  
The cord loosens again, and Delphine closes her eyes in shame. She is an agent of France, trusted with top secret intelligence, trained in espionage. She should be stronger; she should be better.  
  
She feels herself turned around gently, Lorraine's hands soft on her waist as she guides the smaller woman to face her. The younger woman feels a firm hand cup her cheek.  
  
"Delphine," the triple agent says, tone gentle.  
  
Two tears slip from Delphine's closed eyes and onto her lover's hand, and shame makes her tan cheeks warm and redden.  
  
"Delphine, please look at me?"  
  
Delphine obeys automatically, unable to deny the other woman anything, even now.  
  
"Good." Lorraine bends her neck a bit, so that they are eye to eye. "You are the only living person who knows when I tell the truth. When I say that I will not let anything happen to you - that I will _save_ you, am I lying?"  
  
More tears fall as the heavy stone of fear and anguish in Delphine's chest crumbles and disappears. She shakes her head, dark strands of hair sticking to the moisture on her face.  
  
"Non," she whispers, breath hitching. "You tell the truth."  
  
Lorraine smiles a rare, true smile. It lights up her face, making her not appear _younger_ really (her eyes are too haunted for that), but maybe _lighter_ , like she might remember what hope feels like. She moves forward and rests their foreheads together, blue eyes sliding closed in what looks like relief.  
  
Delphine doesn't close her own eyes, preferring to drink in this moment of vulnerability. Her eyes do cross a little with the closeness, though, but she doesn't blink, instead moving to kiss the older woman almost chastely.  
  
"Will... it will hurt a lot?" She asks, embarrassed by her concern.  
  
Lorraine nods, eyes opening again. She looks almost regretful.  
  
"Yes. But don't fight it. Just... trust me, Delphine?"  
  
Delphine nods enthusiastically, fear and something like a mixture of admiration and affection and lust making her desperate to prove herself to her lover.  
  
They kiss again, and Lorraine goes soft against her, none of the usual sharpness of teeth present.  
  
"I will do this, and take photos. You will be under for less than five minutes. I will bring you back," she promises, stroking at the young agent's throat as if to comfort her.  
  
"And if you cannot-" Delphine begins, but Lorraine glares and shakes her head.  
  
"I _will_ ," she insists roughly, gripping the French woman's chin with her calloused fingers. “I _will_ save you.”  
  
"If you _cannot_ ," Delphine says again, running her own fingers over Lorraine's cheeks, over her ears and brow. "Will you... will you make sure my body gets home? I... if I die, I want to be buried next to my mother."  
  
Lorraine's breath comes out a quiet, shaky rattle as she turns the other agent around.  
  
Delphine isn't sure, but she thinks she sees moisture simmering along the underside of the blonde's eyes before she is spun around to face her fate.

Almost as an afterthought, Lorraine slips Delphine's walkman headphones over her ears and presses play.

At first it is just an uncomfortable pressure, but soon, the feeling of the thick black cords twisting round her neck feel like she is being choked by fire.  
  
It is excruciating.  
  
Delphine, much to her shame, cannot go into that dark night quietly.  
  
She attempts to squirm away as her chest begins to burn and the skin of her throat feels as if it is being branded.  
  
"Sshh," she hears through the music, "it's alright. I've got you. Relax and it will hurt less," the older woman whispers gently in her ear, nuzzling her there and laying a kiss on her hair.  
  
Delphine reaches back, desperate. She wraps her hand around Lorraine's head, fingers tangling in her luminescent hair, and pulls her closer. She is afraid - terrified - as her life drains from her body. But, she also was telling the truth. She trusts the other agent. She _has_ to.  
  
"Alright sweetness, it's alright," Lorraine coos, easing them both to the ground as Delphine's ability to control her legs leaves her.  
  
She makes horrible choking sounds, unable to expel the air in her lungs, feeling as if she will explode. Her free hand comes up, fingers clawing at the cords even as she turns her face and presses her nose into Lorraine's neck.  
  
"Sshh darling, it's okay. I have you. Just let go."  
  
The room blurs at the edges, splotches of darkness marring her vision.  
  
The music swells in her ears, and she loses control of her bladder. She is half in Lorraine's lap, shaking, dying, legs wet with her own piss.  
  
She manages to look up as her vision fades completely. Lorraine is weeping silently, expression one of almost agony, though her grip never falters.  
  
Delphine pushes up with the last of her strength, lips trembling as she forces air out past the vice around her neck, _needing_ to speak one last time. Her words drift into Lorraine’s ear - she herself can't hear them over the music or the sound of her own death.  
  
The darkness comes for her, and the pain is gone.  
  
****  
  
The first thing Delphine notices when she wakes is that she is dry and warm, that she feels _clean_. Her eyes are closed and she lies on her back under what feel like soft sheets.  
  
She gasps and sits up, eyes flying open.  
  
It is night still, or maybe again (she can't be sure how much time has passed).  
  
The second thing she notices is the pain. It feels as if the inside of her throat has been scraped raw with jagged razors, and her neck throbs with a searing, vivid pain.  
  
"You're okay," she hears a soft, careful voice murmur from nearby.  
  
Frantic, her eyes search the dark room, landing on the lounging figure in the corner of the unfamiliar space.  
  
"L-L-" she tries, but her voice is rough and almost nonexistent.  
  
"Sshhh, don't try and speak. Give it a few days. I... there is no permanent damage as far as I can tell, but let yourself rest."  
  
Lorraine stands and slinks closer, cautious. She looks unsure for the first time since Delphine has known her.  
  
Delphine's eyes fill with tears and terrible, gasping rattles leave her throat. She is in pain and more scared than ever, but also so wonderfully _alive_. She feels fragile, like she is made of glass, but also like she has climbed Mount Everest and lived to tell the tale. It is overwhelming; she feels like she is unravelling, shaking apart.  
  
Lorraine slips into bed with her, sliding behind her and wrapping her body around the sobbing woman. She doesn't speak, but hums and begins to rock them both gently.  
  
"L-L-L-" Delphine tries again, but her crying and her ruined throat make it impossible to speak.  
  
Lorraine shushes her again and cradles her impossibly closer, clearing her own throat and whispering the words to an old French lullaby Delphine has not heard since she was a very young child.  
  
Despite the hurricane of emotions swirling through her, Delphine sleeps.  
  
****

Weeks later, after inquests and tying up loose ends in Berlin and Paris, Delphine Lasalle - now Angelique Delmare - unlocks the door to her new apartment in the New World, a cozy two room flat in New York City.  
  
It is dark, just after sunset, but her instincts are sharp as ever - sharp enough to pick up the slightest movements in the corner of the room.  
  
Heart beating a mile a minute, practically bursting out of her chest, Angelique has her small gun at the ready, the barrel wavering ever so slightly with her panting breaths.  
  
"Good girl," Lorraine says, only a little condescending.  
  
The blonde steps into the light as Angelique sags against the door in relief.  
  
"Fuck off, fais pas ça," she mutters, empty hand coming to grip her chest. "You scared the SHIT out of me!"  
  
"Sorry," Lorraine says, not sounding sorry at all.  
  
Angelique steps fully into the apartment and closes the door, plunging them both into almost complete darkness.  
  
Lorraine takes the opportunity to light a cigarette, giving them some illumination.  
  
"Miss me?" the blonde asks, inhaling deeply and blowing smoke out of the corner of her mouth, away from the still shaking woman.  
  
"Maybe not," Angelique mutters, but they both know it is a lie.  
  
Lorraine smirks and comes forward, crowding into the dark haired woman's personal space and claiming her mouth with a surprising gentleness.  
  
"Hello," the older woman murmurs, sounding quiet and almost relieved.  
  
"'Hello," Angelique replies, smiling for the first time since stepping into the flat.  
  
"Tell me again," Lorraine demands, but her voice has the edge of desperation to it.  
  
Angelique-once-Delphine considers playing dumb, or even flat out denying the request, but the thought does not last long. Quickly, her heart is filled with a rush of warmth and her lips curve into a soft smile.  
  
"You still want to hear it?" She asks, stalling a little, needing to know too.  
  
Lorraine nods once, too proud to ask again.  
  
Angelique melts, moving forward so that she is in Lorraine's arms, mindful of the cigarette. She feels Lorraine holding her breath.  
  
She reaches up so that her lips are brushing the shell of her lover's ear before she speaks, then repeats those words - her last words before her (temporary) death in that hotel in Berlin.  
  
"Je t'aime."  
  
She feels herself pulled closer, as close as humanly possible.  
  
"Good," Lorraine says after a moment, the word a shaky exhalation.  
  
It is as close as the older woman will ever get to saying it back. Angelique knows this, and, it is enough. Because words were nice, but the young-woman-once-a-spy has something better, something that speaks louder than sounds travelling through the air.  
  
She has her life. A gift given to her at great risk to lover's life and work. Her life is proof enough of what she means to the other woman.  
  
They kiss, and it is good.  
  
They make love, and it is better. Rough, then soft, then rough again, but always electric, always present and real.  
  
Afterwards, they lie together in rumpled sheets, Lorraine with her head on Angelique's chest, ear pressed hard there. She is pretending to recover, but the Frenchwoman knows the blonde is really listening to her heartbeat, strong and sure under skin and muscle and bones.  
  
"How long until you go?" She asks after long minutes of silence.  
  
"Long enough," Lorraine replies, wrapping an arm around her waist and settling in. Trusting her to watch while she sleeps.  
  
“Sweet dreams,” she hums, stroking the other woman’s back soothingly. She feels Lorraine smile softly against her chest.  
  
"Je suis tienne autant que je le peux" the blonde says softly, already drifting off to sleep. Her face is open and vulnerable - she is telling the truth.

Angelique is shocked, but also happy. Finally, after long weeks and months, she is able to relax. For the first time since setting foot in Berlin, she feels safe.

"Je t'aime," she whispers again, fighting the urge to wake the blonde and make love to her until sunrise. “Je t’aime.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lorraine uses the photos to doctor up an medical examiner's report, so that no one comes looking for her bae.
> 
> Maybe one day I will write a sequel. It will take place on a beach somewhere. Or maybe it will be a crossover with John Wick...


End file.
